


"Husband" and Wife

by quincindentaldreams



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quincindentaldreams/pseuds/quincindentaldreams
Summary: This will entirely be a compilation of one-shots (mostly containing some form of smut) between Anne and Ann as they navigate married life together. Anne and Ann will endure arguments, play-fights, the Lister family, secret fetishes, new dogs!, jealous exes, and many many things together. Some parts will be loosely based off of the magnificent diaries that allowed the fandom to exist, some parts will be entirely dramatic license on my part. However, I thoroughly, and I mean thoroughly, hope you enjoy.





	1. Excuse Me?

It’s not uncommon for Anne and I to often, and I surely mean often, find ourselves in a heated state of undress. In fact, it’s more often than not, and it has seemed to definitively increase since my fully moving into Shibden a month ago. I honestly cannot take a peek at the woman before that old familiar feeling, that very much welcomed feeling, of an aching core rises again. If I was attached before, I am surely attached now, and Anne basks in it. 

She takes no qualms about pleasing me, no matter the time, no matter the day, no matter the case. Despite our rocky start, things have truly seemed to level themselves out between us. We fit into an almost perfect role, so much so that I have recently and jokingly began to call her “husband” when we are in private and she does something to remind me of her role. Glib as ever, she responds by calling me “wife”, and it is more than fitting. The days seem brighter with something to do, someone to look after. I’ve almost put Cordingly and Eugenie out of a job. I love to dote on Anne by making her tea, serving her meals, running the cloth along her shoulders as she bathes. Either way, the servants have really seemed to take a liking for me, as I get along with them almost as well as I get along with Marian, which I expected this to be something that would make Anne cross. 

Boy, was I right. 

Of course, there is our typical domestic bickering, which we always seem to overcome by my batting eyelashes, longing looks, kisses and invitations to bed. I’d sort of guessed on it before our marriage… but bedding me seems to somehow solve everything for Anne. She hid it well before and had even seemed surprised at my in-private forwardness, but she is absolutely insatiable. She craves the touches almost, if not more, than I do. I’m woken up to her tracing light circles on my hip, her way of asking for permission to kiss at my neck (among other places). After she’s spent a day in the smoldering heat, loosening the shrubs or chopping axes with Mr. Booth for firewood, she returns to the Hall very sweaty, very unkempt, and very excitable. It’s almost as if the more manly her job is that day, the more restless she becomes, the more eager she is to finish her job as “husband”- by pleasing her wife. 

For me, it’s almost the same, but reversed. As it is, nothing, and I mean nothing, gets me heated faster than intentionally making her cross and then making her work it out with me. 

It was a revelation to me, born out of a petty argument over one thing Anne genuinely cannot stand, her coming home to find me and Marian sitting by the fire over tea and laughing together like schoolgirls. I’m not sure why it is, but it makes Anne ridiculously jealous. It is true that I am under her authority and with no one to please or impress but her, but this jealously has little to do with that. She simply cannot stand my attentions being given to her sibling. It arouses her competitive side, her domineering side, a side that no one- not even the most powerful man in Halifax- can overcome. This day was no different. She’d walked in, found us gibbering to one another, and made a patronizing remark about how nice it must be to sit by a fire all day while everyone else among the house was either hard at work or to old to work. It was so out of place, not to mention entirely hypocritical of her to say, as she often spends entire days writing or reading by the same fire and drinking the same tea without breaking a sweat. I’d realized this, and done something I rarely do, especially in front of her family. 

I argued back. 

“Excuse me?” I’d said, looking up at her with an unamused expression. Marian had remained silent, choosing to ignore her sister’s pettiness and find anything else in the house more interesting to look at. 

Anne had repeated herself with a quite rage, angrily removed her long gloves and top hat, threw them onto the adjacent chair, and briskly walked off to our newly constructed bedroom. 

I’d trailed right on her heels after excusing myself from Marian, who’d muttered “Better you than me, good luck.” 

Anne was reeling when I’d shut the door loudly. Her coat had been shrugged off, waistcoat was unbuttoned, and she was doing her signature motion to show anyone in the vicinity of her irritation- toying with her collar. 

It was here that I’d noticed she was wearing pants, informing me that she’d also been out riding horses. I now know that Anne only wears pants while riding and only while at home, as she preferred to not ride side-saddle on her own land. I was transfixed. These were unlike her breeches, these were of nicer and more expensive material, tucked into long riding socks and high boots. Something Mr. Washington would wear and look dapper in. It exposed her muscular calves and thighs, and accentuated how tall and curve-less she really is beneath the heavy material of petticoats and black skirts. I’d grown wet at the sight, entirely at a loss of memory about why I was there in the first place. 

“Is there something you need?” She’d bit, trying to hurt my feelings. For a second, I’d felt the tears well at her unkindness, something she rarely if ever directed towards me. However, I’d not let the tears fall, remembering the long speeches I’d had to constantly endure about my lack of confidence. I’d thought, “Well, if one must ask for such confidence, one must be ready when they themselves are met with it.” 

So, I’d said, steeling myself to the floor in defiance, “You won’t speak to me cross like that, I am your wife.” 

Anne had laughed, fingers wringing and constantly tugging at her neckline. “Are you sure you are mine and not Marian’s? Seemed you two have been quite jolly together as of late.” 

It was the peak of her ridiculousness, but I’d known for a while now that Anne loses all trace of refinement when she is angry from jealousness. She’d tear the head off a man twice her size if they’d even looked at me wrong for half of a second. Given the status of my financial means and the expensive clothing I donned, she’d nearly caused quite the roar on many calls into Halifax we’d made together. The men would stand too close, their eyes would linger long enough for her to catch them, and I’d have to remove her quickly from wherever we were before she picked a fight. It was hilarious to laugh about afterwards, and wonderful to experience once I’d finally gotten her home and been reminded exactly how much of myself was under her authority. I’ve learned now how to use Anne’s carnal anger and turn it into more expletive carnal actions. 

I, blushing as I write this, love it when she reminds me of my place. 

“I’ve told you already, you needn’t imagine something so ridiculous. Really, Anne. Would you prefer it if we didn’t get along?” 

She’d had her back to me, breathing deeply and leaning onto the desk chair, clutching its frame with white knuckles. I, chest and cheeks flushed with desire, had reached around my back to undo the ribbons of my dress, letting it fall to the floor silently. I’d slipped out of my satin shoes while untying the lace threads holding up my petticoats, letting those pool at my ankles as well. Knowing that I couldn’t untie the corset myself, I’d stepped over the discarded fabric and made my way to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder blade. 

“I know that you are terrified of me leaving you, but you know well within your heart that’s not going to happen. What you’re really feeling is jealousy, and that is well and fine, but you won’t raise your voice at me like that over an emotion I have not willingly and forcefully caused you.” 

She scoffed, “I am not jealous.” 

“Yes, you are.” I’d bit the cloth covering her shoulder blade. “And it makes me so hot to witness.” 

She’d sucked in a breath of air at my light nip of her shoulder, now well within the realms of understanding my direction. 

“Perhaps it would do you good to release some of this frustration?” I’d teased, nipping again, but only slightly as she’d turned around in my grasp and captured my lips against her own. Anne was an experienced kisser, capable of stealing the breath right out of my lungs when she molded her lips around mine. Her tongue, always tasting of mint and tea, flicked at my own inside my mouth. Skilled hands went to work at loosening my corset, something she’d mastered by now, and it was being tugged off of my shoulders before we’d came up for air from the kiss.

Standing only in my chemise and drawers, I pressed myself up against her and went to work at shrugging the waistcoat off her shoulders. Two hands grasped harshly at my thighs, beneath my buttocks, and lifted me into the air and against her. The motion had caused my legs to wrap around her waist as a tongue was slipped into my mouth, and the cold air that invaded the slit in my drawers had contrasted with the burning heat there. I’d hissed through her mouth and tugged at the base of her hair. 

Anne had walked with me in her arms to the bed, and roughly laid us both down, pressing her full weight onto me and arching her hips. She’d stopped for a second to tug at her cravat, but I’d only allowed her to loosen it before grasping both of her wrists and tugged them away. 

“Don’t take it off.” I pleaded into her mouth with a whisper, choosing instead to take matters into my own hands and go about unbuttoning the first few layers of her white cotton shirt. The sound of her boots hitting the floor had echoed in my ears as she removed my hands from her shirt and pinned them to the bed above me. 

I groaned softly, knowing better than to be loud with people in the house below us, and bucked my hips into her. 

Anne met my eyes with a harsh glare, moving both of my wrists into the grasp of one hand so that her other could squeeze between us and unbutton my drawers.  
Once they were unbuttoned, allowing my center to be fully exposed with the cloth still wrapped around each leg, we’d kept the eye contact in a silent minute. She was still angry, and I was defiant as ever, continuing my bucking hips and biting my bottom lip.

“What do you want?” She’d asked again, only more irritated now. 

Her hand ran through my trimmed curls at the top of my center, combing through them and teasing me, before a finger collected my wetness she was met with from the space between my most intimate lips. At feeling my wetness, she’d groaned, momentarily dropping her head to my breasts to catch her heaving breath. I couldn’t manage a word, too overwhelmed with the feeling of her finger massaging me, and my eyes nearly rolled back at the visual of her bringing that same finger back up to her face before sliding it between those perfect lips. She collected the sample of my juices on her tongue, eyes closing at the taste, before returning her hand to collect my other wrist from the confines of her strong left hand. 

“Please.” I whispered into the few inches of space between our face. 

Her grasp, a vice grip around my wrist, increased. “Please what?” 

She’d continued, clenching her jaw so tightly that the muscles flexed and the vein on her temple rose from the surface, “Please don’t feel perturbed that my wife is chatting up my sister? Please what, Ann?” 

The statement had come as expected; I’d almost rolled my eyes at her childish, immature reasoning. Instead, I lifted my neck and pressed the slightest of kisses to the corner of her mouth. 

“I told you, you may feel as you wish over something that I am not responsible for. My request is only for you to stop teasing and let out this frustration already, if you are going to.” 

She’d stalled, ultimately challenged in jest, and looked at me with eyes that grew darker than the sky was falling into outside. My wrists were once again joined together as she went to work at untying her cravat, ignoring my request entirely. The silk was undone and made into use for something that had yet to be done, something that only Anne would have fantasized about, a tie for my wrists. 

This sparked the heat to spread over me, lighting my body with a sheen of sweat and pinkness, wetting my core so much that she would have little trouble entering me. Those hands traveled across my body, slipping beneath my chemise and toying with my breasts. She lifted the fabric, hardly checking on my consent to the manner, for she’d known by now that I would speak up if there was a problem with anything she did. I’d not had a problem with this. I’d wanted this, and loved the way that Anne handled my breasts especially. She squeezed, massaged, and brought her lips down to lightly bite and trace her tongue around the buds of my nipples. After the attention was given to them equally, she returned her fingers to my core, combing through my curls again before settling between my lips and the wetness she’d been met with there. 

I couldn’t take my eyes from her face, the way her mouth slightly drops each time she feels the moisture she has caused, the way her brows quickly meet on her forehead in exquisite agony over knowing she’d created that pool, the way her jaw clenches and she hisses behind her teeth. Lips were on mine again, kissing with such intensity and precision that I couldn’t help but gasp. She’d done the thing that she always does before entering me, which is pull back slightly, silence all movement, and rest her eyes on my face to watch it contort in pleasure. This time was no different. Two fingers impaled me, and she’d groaned and smiled at the shocks that it sent through my body, forcing my back to arch and my head to jolt upwards against the pillow. She’d rocked against me, moving her two longest fingers inside as far as they could go before curling. 

“Good girl.” She’d encouraged, coating my small body in chills. 

“Untie me, Anne.” I begged into her mouth, needing something to grasp on to once she sped up. 

Two sets of white teeth had taken my bottom lip into their grasp, pulling back with the slightest bite before letting go. 

“I will untie you, but only if you first tell me who you belong to.” 

We’d met eyes, hers in a delightful smirk and mine, I’m sure, glossed over with pleasure. The fingers curled again, deliciously, nearly making me release, but I’d fought against it. 

“You. Only you. Under no one’s authority but yours. Please.” 

Anne had relented, reaching up with her free hand to untie the knot constraining my wrists. Instantly, I’d grasped onto her strong shoulders, those hardened and muscular from the constant laboring work she takes on with her men. The soft cotton beneath my fingers was soon wrinkled as I balled it up in my fists. My admonition had seemed to satisfy her, as we were soon off at a much faster pace, and I’d prayed immediately that no one downstairs would be able to hear my labored breathing and strained moans. 

She’d only needed to go for a few more seconds before I was coming undone by her fingertips, body convulsing. I’d had to bite at the skin of her shoulder to muffle myself as I shook. The feeling was indescribable, and never fails to shock me as much as the first time it arrived, each time I’m allowed it. Anne had described it to me once in French, almost immediately after she’d caused it to happen the first time at Crow Nest, but I’d not known much French, and I’d certainly not known that ladies could do that. I was in a panic, not understanding what had just happened to my body. 

“Don’t,” I’d demanded of her as she attempted to unsheathe herself, “No, I… I want- “ 

“What is it, my darling? What do you want?” She’d asked into my neck, resting her full weight on top of me to catch her breath. Light kisses were being placed upon my neck, beneath my earlobe.

The embarrassment was immediately brought to the surface, coupled with the anxiety of asking for what I was about to ask for. I’d turned my face, red-hot and blushing, into her own neck, not allowing her to look at me as I spoke my wish.  
“I want us to be closer.” 

“Closer? How do y- ah,” She’d said, “That.” 

I could have died from the embarrassment. The act upon which I was referring to was the most explicit, most naughty thing we did, and we’d only done it once. It caused a great fuss, a great mess of wet linens that had to be washed almost immediately, and I was sure she was about to deny me of this. I’d been craving it, unable to remove the memory of her face contorted in pleasure, unable to rid myself of the way it felt to feel her most intimate, softest parts against me. 

“Like on… like our wedding night.”

Anne had kissed along my jaw, “Ann, it’s eight o’clock in the evening.” 

“I know,” I held onto her cheeks, bringing her lips up to my own so that I could feel them. “I’ll be quiet, I promise.” 

She’d laughed, glib, eyes turning serious on my own. I’d been aching, feeling myself so in heat to feel her that it was honestly painful. 

“Yes, but… I’m not sure I can.” 

I gripped her face harder, “Can’t you try? Please.” 

She studied me for a long while, and the sigh she let out had notified me that she was raising the white flag. I had won, knowing full well what I was in for, and despite it breaking my heart to see those riding pants she was donning go, there was no better way to my knowledge for her to release such pent-up frustrations.

“Very well.” She smirked. My hands instantly dropped between us, making quick work at the buttons to free her. Her breeches were unbuttoned too, and I’d tripled with excruciating desire at the skin that exposed itself to me as she shrugged off both pairs of clothing.

My drawers were ripped off of me quickly, discarded on the floor somewhere before we were both tugged under the covers. I ached as we kissed again, feeling my legs being lifted so that my knees nearly touched the mattress beneath my back. 

Anne, still wearing her white shirt and nothing else, had held my legs back with her forearms. I remember the moment our lower halves met in excruciating detail. She’d kissed me, softly, full of love and possession and care, everything that I had and still do crave. I assume it was meant to keep me quiet, though really it was her that could barely contain her voice as we touched. We’d groaned into one another, eyes closed, and face contorted at the feeling. 

“Good Lord.” She whispered, beginning to arch her hips into me. It was all so wet, and instantly better than the first time. It had taken a while then for us to get into the motion of things, and by that time one could tell that the other had been rubbed raw, but alas-we were now successful. 

There’s something special about making Anne Lister fall apart, watching her wage a war inside over keeping her strong composure and being broken down and apart from pleasure. When she does let me touch her, she teaches me through each motion on how to please her right, but this situation was and is different. This situation is Anne rutting into me, taking her pleasure from me, sliding our cores together in the most carnal of ways. She’d gotten a far away look into her eyes, something that was matched in my own gaze I’m sure, before she reached her limit. The moans and breaths were short, choppy, and broken, matched with intermittent gasps of air. 

And then we’d stilled, locked up and spent, with her throwing the full weight of her hips into me. Tears leaked out of my eyes as she came down, always torn apart by watching her like this. Heaving more so than ever, she dropped her upper body onto my chest, pressing her head into my bosom. My legs were released from her grasp, though I immediately wrapped my ankles around her hips.

I’d kissed her head and the sweat that had collected there and everywhere, causing her shirt to stick to her skin. In return, as she so often did after we finished, the slightest kisses were placed on my chest and base of my neck.  
She’d kissed up my face, finding the tears there and stopping. 

“Ann?” 

I’d kissed her lips softly, the tears not letting up as I was so overwhelmed, and I’m certain that I’d given her a bit of a fright as she’d grabbed hold of my chin and forced me to look at her. 

“Are you hurt? What have I... is it because of the words we had earlier?” She panicked, leaning back with her mouth in a constant open to close motion. “Ann... my love, I… I’m sorry for being so cross, I-“ 

“No.” I whispered, drawing her back down to me. “No, it’s not that. I, I just get so overwhelmed sometimes, especially when we’re close like this.” 

She’d softened, smiling slightly with relief and resting her head against my bosom again. 

“I love you.” I whispered into her hair, kissing lightly once more as she returned the sentiment. We sat breathing for a few moments, simply enjoying one another’s presence. The thought of her panic had me smile, relishing in the little moments she spares that remind me of how much she does care, even in her worst of moods. 

“Though you know, husband… despite loving the aftermath, you really should stop being so cross with me.”


	2. You want to do that here??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Husband" and Wife take a journey to London!

The carriage rolls onward through the evening twilight, guided by two black horses and a driver.  I’d looked back twice to find Thomas and Eugenie asleep at the back, being about as useful as two tadpoles in the mud. Ann and I are headed towards London, on a nearly half day trip that began entirely too late (to my disapproval) because of Thomas’s not wanting to sit with my maid. Each day I’m forced to deal with them, I’m forced to ask myself again why I haven’t replaced them both with more appropriate servants for Ann and me.

Ann never seems too bothered, but today she had grown frustrated. The little one had observed them arguing from her place in the carriage after I’d handed her inside to sit down. I’d took my place leaning against the carriage in order to take a breath and a moment before I irresponsibly excused them both from their duties and left us with no help for the trip. Eugenie, unfortunately, has learned more English. More English means a wider vocabulary to argue with. Before, it had not been too terrible. Beech would make snarky comments, Eugenie would gather from the tone that it was about her, and French curse words would be fired my way in hopes that I would translate. This ultimately resulted in my telling them both to shut up and get their work done, that they were not here to be friends.

Now, however, it wasn’t so easy. Beech’s comments are relatively understood by her, and she gives back just as hard as she gets. It usually didn’t bother Ann as much as it bothered me, but today had been different. We were approximately two hours late thanks to them being in arguments all morning, and my wife was growing irritated.

Me, having woken up in a relatively good mood for the travel, was taking their incompetence in stride, and ignored it as much as I could. Thomas and John had carried the last of Ann’s boxes and lugged them onto the carriage. Eugenie was sulking by the door, already irritated at Thomas, when Thomas had turned to grab my thermometer from me. His jaw was locked, likely nervous at what he was wanting to say, and I’d asked him to speak his mind.

“ _Ma’am, do you think Cordingly would come instead?”_

The comment was the last straw. I’d watched as Ann rolled her eyes when Eugenie billowed loud broken English remarks at him, throwing her hands wildly into the air to get whatever point she had across. I leaned against the carriage to observe, contemplating just what on God’s green Earth I was going to do about the situation growing worse.

Ann had solved it for me.

After nearly three minutes of enduring the arguing, she’d ripped open the carriage door. Her head peaked out wildly, over-sized blue bonnet and all, but the expression on her face was harsher than her appearance.

“Excuse me!” She called, grabbing both of their attentions and silencing them. “I will not be enduring this for the rest of the day, and certainly not for the whole week. Do you have any idea what’s going to happen if this trip is cut short because the two of you cannot properly shut up and behave yourselves?”

My servants were dumbfounded and red as a flame from embarrassment. I smile at it now as I smiled at it then. The little one flung her white gloved hand out of the carriage and pointed it at me.

“She will horsewhip the both of you. I’ll see to it, in fact. I’ll put you out on the road myself if I have to. If this carriage is not loaded and leaving Shibden in less than five minutes, both of you are out of a job.”

Hemingway, watching from the buttery window as I saw, flung her hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence her laughter, but it could not be silenced. The little one had spoken, leaving all trace of politeness behind her in the carriage, and it had (from how it looked) struck far greater a fear inside of them than I was able to ever cause. Their heads turned towards the feet, and the carriage was pulling out of the driveway in less than four minutes exactly. Trust me, I’d timed it.

They sleep peacefully now as we ride on. Our lateness has caused us to still be driving on into the night, but if I have it timed correctly, we should be reaching London in about thirty minutes. The perfect amount of time to do as I have orchestrated.

The blinds in the carriage have been up for a while now, I having put them up myself since the last time I checked to see if the reprobates were still asleep. Ann rests beside me, her eyes focused on her own journal, able to see what she is writing from the carriage being lit by two small lamps attached to both windows. I’d stopped writing in my own journal a few minutes ago, choosing instead to watch her soft face beneath the candlelight, both eyes intensely observing her pen as it scribbles against the paper. She really is gorgeous, strikingly gorgeous. It never fails to amaze me how beautiful she grows each day that we wake up beside one another. I’d always thought of her as pretty, very pretty, but certainly not to the extent as this. It warmed me all over to think that she did, finally, wonderfully, choose me after all.

My hand reaches up to the window closest to me, pulling back the glass of the lamp, and I blow out the first candle. This alarms her, as expected.

“Anne?” She whispers, “What are you doing? I can’t see as good.”

I ignore her, occupied with reaching over her lap to open the second lamp and blow that candle out, too. Darkness falls upon us, allowing me to press myself up harshly against her and take her lips into my own. The kiss is held for a moment, both of us releasing breaths of relief at not being able to feel one another for the entire morning.

I release her bottom lip from my mouth softly, kissing her cheek despite her tugging lightly against my jaw to bring my mouth back to hers.

“You must be quiet, okay?” I whisper, trying to ensure that no one will be able to hear anything if they were listening. Luckily, no one could see in for the blinds, and no one could come in for the doors are locked, but they certainly could hear if we were not careful. Not convinced that she understands what I’m wanting is more than simple kissing, I slide my hand down her dress and rub at the base of her exposed ankle, feeling the silky material of her stockings delightful. Ann stalls, hands bunching up against the collar of my great coat.

“You want to do that here?” She whisper-yells, to which I nod in response through another kiss at the base of her neck. I withdraw my hand from her stockings and grasp the cuff of my great coat around my wrist, getting it tugged off my arms so it can be discarded on the seat opposite us.

“You must be quiet, my darling. Not a peep.”

“I don’t know if I can.” She admits, already nearly whining out at the thought of me touching her.

“I will be gentle.”

She scoffs, quietly, “That doesn’t matter either way. You are mad.”

We lock eyes once the coat is finally shrugged off. She drags her eyes over my top half, hands moving to toy with my blue silk cravat and collar. After checking to ensure that all blinds are surely put up and covering the entirety of the windows, I move off the seat and kneel at her knees.

“I am mad, yes. Thank you. May I?” I gesture at her lower half, asking for permission to lift her dress and petticoats and unbutton her drawers.

Ann stalls, looking perplexed, though the blush along her chest and neck has rightfully given her opposition away. Still though, I wait for permission. Honestly, I’m not sure what has gotten into me. It’s not that I’ve done this before, but I’m much older now than the last time I found myself in such a situation. The last time was with Mariana decades ago, and she was the one to initiate it. We’d not had a carriage with blinds, but we’d only had one servant and a driver, and both were sitting up front. Given the lack of window in the front, we were safe from prying eyes. Her hand had taken my own into its grasp and guided it to her thigh. Not much was said, we’d barely looked at one another, but I’d managed to ease my hand up her petticoats and have her undone within two minutes. Mariana is just the kind of woman who’d do something so explicit and risky. Ann, however, is much more polite, much less experienced and direct, and not exactly that kind of woman. The memory is quickly erased from my mind as I return my attention back to my wife.

“You are mad.” She smiles, rolling her eyes at me.

“I am, yes. Such is established already.”

She laughs, “And insatiable. Must you not wait until we get to the hotel? We’ll have a room, privacy, and a bed.”

Her dress and petticoats in hand, I lean into her, kissing more along her neck and stopping at her ear so I can whisper. A cold chill comes over her.

“Darling, make no mistake, you are just as in for it at the hotel as you are right now in this carriage.”

A sharp inhale from her end brings our lips together once more. A tongue runs across my bottom lip, asking for entrance that I grant. We French kiss for a minute, and I urge forward, kissing her deeply and getting her hotter, knowing that our time is running down.

“Drape your coat across my lap.” She whispers, “And don’t be as rough, I… I won’t be able to keep quiet.”

I smile, showing teeth and delight at her permission. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.”

My hands quickly reach across from us, picking my great coat up to drape it across her legs. My left-hand slides beneath its fabric, taking hold of her clothing once more. We continue kissing as I rub my way along her slim, pale legs, trying as hard as I can to not tear the fabric of her stockings. Once I meet the end of her stockings at the top of her kneecaps, I make easy work of unbuttoning the slit on her drawers.

Ann hisses once they’re undone, rearing her head back and onto my shoulder at the first touch of my fingers on the soft patch of hair. I comb through it, playing and teasing her, before cupping the skin of her sex a little less than gentle. She hisses once more, giving a poor attempt at controlling her breathing, and I fight against the worry of her not being able to keep quiet once I enter her.

Brushing over her clit, I rub light circles with the pad of my middle finger in a clockwise motion, making Ann squirm. With my left hand, I unbutton the first two buttons of my white shirt.

“Bite down,” I whisper to her as my longest digits leave her clit and trail down her valley towards her opening. The little one presses her face into my chest, just above the patch of skin I’d exposed to her, and latches on below my collar bone. My teeth are clenched at the slight bit of pain, causing my eyes to lose focus, but I carry on despite this and press my two digits into her slowly.

The tightness engulfs me immediately, and it is not lost to me that she bites down much harder, silencing the groan that I know would have appeared if we were in private. I get to work quickly, curling my fingers into her, ignoring the pain at my wrist from such an odd angle. Ann’s hands are clasped tightly around my shoulders, scratching and tugging that the material and threading themselves through the hair at the nape of my neck. While rocking my arm back and forth momentarily, it occurs to me that I’d not be able to get much deeper inside of her, certainly not as deep as she or I would like me to reach. The decision is made quick to adjust Ann into what could be my favorite position to grubble, and it is orchestrated without further hesitation or consideration. I wrap my arm around her waist and lug her off the seat and promptly into my lap.

I’m instantly sheathed to the knuckles, causing Ann to forget her quiet disposition at the shock of it all. She groans out, “ _Oh!”_ into my neck. My hand instantly flies to cover her mouth, and before we both can register what is happening, Eugenie is awake.

“Madame?” She whispers, “Are you okay?”

I cough, tightening my grasp around Ann’s mouth to stop her giggle right in its tracks. She moves out of my grasp with a suspicious grin, bottom lip bitten, and buries her head back into my neck. Teeth clasp around my ear lobe and tug, causing me to jolt up against her, right as her hips begin to gyrate into my hand like the vixen she is.

In broken French, I whisper back to her, “Yes, Eugenie. Everything is alright. Miss Walker spilled her tea is all. Go back to sleep.”

At this angle, I can reach that spot inside of her that makes her drench with sweat and chills. Between us is a heap of clothing, but I manage that well enough, and begin my intent to make her come undone through curling fingers and deep kisses with my tongue in her mouth. Rolling hips cascade like rivers through mountains, for a second, I almost expect my own end to be reached though it never happens. Soon enough, I’ve got her arching against me, stifling herself with the same bite to my chest as she comes undone. Through the gentle tremors, I hold her tightly despite it being hard to breathe, allowing her a moments peace to regain her strength as tender kisses are placed against the side of her neck.

Just as she’s calmed and sat back in her place at my side, the carriage comes to a rolling stop. Right on time, spot on as I’d planned it. Ann is matching me by being flushed and breathless, but we manage to button her drawers and smooth out her dress, and get her hair placed back beneath her bonnet. Her hands fix my shirt, cravat, and collar back into order, and the coat is once again slung over my shoulders. We sheepishly look at one another, both adorning the slightest of smirks, and manage a quick peck before the carriage is stopped.

My hat is thrown onto my head, smile widening on my face as I take her hand in a firm grasp before slinging the door wide open, rushing us out of the carriage and into our hotel before Beech can even wake up.


	3. Absolutely not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you really fight with a sword?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by a marvelous little prompt I was given in the comments section. 
> 
> Just so it's out there, I am ALWAYS accepting new prompts. I cannot ensure that they will all be granted, but know that I will try my hardest to make it happen. Send in a scenario that you think would be spicy or fun! Even if it's not a full prompt, maybe just something you'd like to see mentioned or worked into a chapter, I'll totally accept it! 
> 
> Remember to give kudos if you haven't, comment if you love it, and subscribe if you want to know when it is updated! Thanks so much to all of you that read this. 
> 
> xoxoxo

James opened the carriage door for me as we’d parked inside of Shibden’s grounds. The day had been rather long. I’d been to church and ran a few errands in Halifax for Anne and I, as she’d been complaining of head pains and elected to stay at the estate instead of accompanying me. I’d sighed and kissed her head before leaving, telling her to get better and to send for Dr. Kenny if it got any worse.

On my way down the stairs, Marian had asked to join me, she’d needed to go into Halifax anyways. We’d laughed at the prospect of our going together infuriating Anne, but it was all well and done, and I knew that she wouldn’t stay upset for too long if she were to get upset at all, since the rubbish with Marian has seemed to clear up on its own as of late.

Besides, if she’d not like me to have company, she should have gone with me herself.

I loathed having to sit through church without Anne. It put me to sleep when I was alone, but she always managed to make the experience better. We’d write little notes to one another in the margins of our bibles, and sometimes we’d even manage to lightly hold hands, especially when the service was not full, and the pews gave us protection from a rare wandering eye.

Marian had been good company, but not like the company of my wife. I’d not even had the thrill of having to stifle a giggle.

We walked leisurely into entrance that led to the kitchen, Marian taking up conversation with Cordingly and Hemingway about lunch and Aunt Anne, when the sound of crashing metal startled us right out of our slippers.

“My goodness,” Marian jumped as the sound struck again. “What on Earth is that?”

Hemingway laughed, shaking her head. “Oh that’s nothin’, Miss Marian. Word got to Thomas Beech that Miss Lister could wield a sword. The Hardcastle boy told Sowden, who told Mr. Washington, who apparently managed to tell Mr. Booth, and that’s how Thomas found out. He didn’t believe her, so she challenged him to a duel yesterday. Seems the lad had a bit of trainin’ himself back home where he’s from.”

She pointed at the back of the grounds, towards the garden. “They’d been at it for, what’d you say…”

Cordingly shrugged her shoulders.

“About an hour now.”

I was gaping, and rightfully irritated. One did not swing heavy swords around when they had an aching head too harsh to go to church. Anne was in trouble.

Marian turned to me with what appeared to be a smirk, and a roll of her eyes. “Did you not say that Anne had head pains this morning?”

The servants scoffed with amusement. “She was the most energetic this mornin’.”

“Not a trace of pain about her.”

Metal clashed again, making us all jump as it was much louder. Marian had placed a hand above her heart. They had all shaken their heads at the mistress’s bout of occasional idiocy, and continued with their previous conversation, allowing me to excuse myself without a word and go looking for the trouble herself. I had to walk outside again, passing Argus, the Booth brothers, and James as they put the carriage away, and I’d headed around the corridor that overlooks the garden.

The sight had struck me loose of all thought, senses, and words, once I laid eyes on the two figures in the garden. They were in a heated, all-too realistic battle. Circling one another slowly, their eyes were locked with intensity to call the others bluff. Where Anne managed to locate the two long swords and metal shields, I have no idea, but they gleamed beneath the mid-day sunlight. Both were wearing light armor, of which again I am not entirely sure of its origins.

Beech donned gloves, a metal plate that was chained at the hips and covered his crotch, and a metal chest plate that matched that of my wife’s. But, however, what struck me most were the pants.

 _Those_ pants. The pants that she wore while riding. The pants that seemed too large at the hip and skintight at the leg. She’d discarded her waistcoat and accessories, likely upstairs alongside her head pains, and allowed only her loose cotton shirt to cover her torso. It was tucked into the pants and held beneath her thin chest armor. It was here, where I sat watching her like a fly on the wall, that I noticed the unabashed presence of my wife’s singularities. Here was a woman, nearly in her middle ages, wearing pants and a men’s cotton shirt, play-dueling her groom at a sword fight like two lads in a school yard.

Frankly, and entirely at my own surprise, it made me hot.

The anger I previously held over her little fib had washed right out of me, trickling through my lower half and dissipating around my feet, as I watched her heave the large shield into the air against Thomas. The metal clashed against one another as the swords met again, sending a shock wave of a sound through the estate. She’d had her hair undone, tied into a loose ponytail that ran down her spine, all traces of femininity left behind. I was perplexed, curious, and suddenly smoldering beneath the humid sunlight.

Thomas made a grave mistake in throwing his body weight into a shove with his shield, as she used the opportunity to slide a booted foot against the back of his kneecap, sending him tumbling to his knees. Their swords met again with the same loudness, and she took the opportunity of him being occupied to kick his shield with a mighty huff, sending him onto his back before I blinked. A groan almost slipped from my mouth at the visual of her fighting, muscles rippling in her back, shoulders, forearms and calves as she dealt the final blow. The clothing stuck to her skin from the sweat, and it dripped down her temple and chin, causing my mouth to water at the sight.

It was embarrassing, the things I’d wanted her to do to me, the things I was thinking of in my head. For the first time since I’d met her, I’d pictured something wild, something I’d never once fantasized about in my entire life- her being a man. She’d pull me into the woods and take me against a tree. We wouldn’t have to remove all these clothes, these unnecessary layers that kept us from spontaneously being connected. Then, a thought struck me. _What was preventing us from doing that now?_ We’d not have to be entirely connected. Anne fared well enough to my benefit just using her hands. She’d not need the extra part to fulfill this desire I’d had, certainly not.

Getting her to agree to it, however, now that was the real issue. She was far too careful in these matters to be so quick at getting me up against a tree. I sighed.

She had won, sticking her sword into the ground two feet beside his head and throwing her own shield to the side of them. Both were heaving at the exertion, Thomas opting to stay laid out atop the grass with his hands spread across his stomach. Anne did the same, getting to her knees before laying down and catching her breath. What an odd thing to see her do, sword fight and take a break with her servant. I’d never seen a landowner, especially a female landowner like herself (not that I’d met many), behave in these kinds of manners before I met Anne, before I moved into Shibden. Now, it’s just a normal thing for everyone to witness. One moment she’ll be fussing at John Booth for not setting a shrub far enough into the soil, then five minutes later they’ll be breaking together and drinking beer from the same tin. I wonder how long it took Thomas Beech to get adjusted to her, and I admire the way she is with them.

She won’t apologize to them, never allow them to forget that they _are_ her servants, but she treats them as good as an old friend if they do the same to her. At Crow Nest, I’d read scripture to the servants every afternoon that I could before tea, and I’d even taught a few of them how to read and write, but it had never developed into anything other than a normal acquaintance between a mistress and her tenants.

I took pleasure in knowing that they weren’t facing me as I did my spying and thinking, it allowed me to go unnoticed once I quietly padded my way through the grass in their direction.

“Might’ve called your bluff irresponsibly, ma’am.” Beech laughed, still catching what little breath he had.

Anne nodded at nothing; eyes focused on the rolling hills that seemed to cage the estate in its scenery.

“Hmm. I believe you did, Thomas.”

I stopped about ten feet from them, not wanting to get their attention quite yet.

“By the way, not a word of this to anyone outside of these grounds, are we clear? Can’t have all of Halifax wanting to challenge me to a sword fight.”

He smiled his charming smile, the same one that had Marian gleaming each time she saw it. I took the opportunity of their silence to cough, announcing my presence to the sweaty knights in armor.

“More sword fights would be good, actually.” I spoke in jest, watching them both scramble to their feet in a panic. Anne fumbled with the clasps on the chest armor, throwing it to the ground as quick as she could. They’d gone red, as bright as a tomato with embarrassment. My fingers found the sword she’d stuck into the ground, I’d trailed my index around it’s handle before averting my eyes back to her.

“They seem to cure head pains; someone should tell Dr. Kenny right away.”

Anne bit her lip, looking down at her feet with further embarrassment, her hands were clasped behind her back.

“Miss Walker.” Beech bowed his head in my direction, “I do apologize. It was my idea to begin with.”

I hummed, gently excusing him back to the estate with my eyes, and watched as he clumsily collected the discarded armor and swords strewn out about the garden before returning my eyes to my wife. She took my breath away, making it nearly impossible to continue scolding her. Sweat collected on her face and chest, still dripping down her temple and the strands of hair that had came loose from her hair tie. Her cotton shirt was morbidly soaked, and stained with grass, and likely going to be the cause of Marian fussing on Cordingly’s behalf because it had to be scrubbed or made new. She was still breathing heavily, but looking at me beneath youthful eyelids, like a puppy waiting to be forgiven for bad behavior.

She’d be forgiven, alright. Only she’d have to earn it first.

“Ann…” She started, “let me explain myself, I-“

“No.” I shook my head, “Follow me. I’ll speak to you in the moss house.”

Anne, reluctant, likely thinking of all the duties she had to see to that would be interrupted by our trip, almost reached for the chain of her watch that hung out of a pocket on her left thigh and connected to a belt loop. One look at my face told her to rethink the decision, so she relented with a sigh, and prepared herself for another scolding as I took off in the direction of the hut.

Ten minutes into the walk, we’d not spoken one word to the other. She was trailing a few feet behind, opting out of her typical fast pace to let me lead, and likely thinking that I was still upset with her. I wasn’t, not in the slightest, but I _was_ concocting a plan, and so very thankful that she chose to stay behind, so I’d had nothing to stare at and ache over more.

Once the trees and greenery grew thicker, I knew we were out of prying eyes and far deep into the woods. The path thinned about thirty or so meters from the edge of the tree line, and it had long been getting thinner, telling me that we were very close to the hut now. Checking behind me, Anne was hardly paying attention, eyes focused on the ground at her feet, thoughts far off somewhere. I assumed she was thinking about how she could make up to me, and luckily- she didn’t have to think too hard, as I’d already thought of the perfect way, and diverted us from the path.

“Darling, this isn’t the way. Do you know where you’re going?”

I stopped, looking around us at the forest that stretched on for miles with no end, telling me that no one would be able to see us here. One couldn’t even see the tree line anymore.

“No,” Said I, and rested myself against a tree a few feet from her. “It looks like we might be lost.”

We weren’t lost. The path was three meters or so behind this very tree. I’d checked. Anne was still sweaty, her cravat was missing along with her silk collar, and the first few buttons of her cotton shirt were undone, exposing sharp collarbones and soaking skin to me. I reached for her shirt and bundled it in my hands, pulling her towards me with ease.

“You’re not upset with me?” She winced, halfway smiling, hips pressing into me gently while her hand braced herself against the tree beside my head.

“I am, believe me, but not for the reasons you think.”

Her gaze faltered, mouth opening once before closing as she struggled to find words. I took the opportunity to run my hands along her chest and neck, and thread them into her hair so to bring her closer to me. Our lips met lightly, but she’d pulled back to tease me and kissed along my neck, nipping once at the skin there with her teeth. She smelled of those all-too familiar perfume oils, lavender and spruce mixed in with her natural sweat and pheromones, and it caused me to bite back a groan and grip her hair a little tighter.

“I’m mad at you for wearing these.” My knee, beneath my dress, traced along the outside of her thigh. “They should be illegal.”

Anne stalled, pulling back to look into my eyes to make sure that I was in-fact alluding to what I was alluding to. We held the eye contact for a few second, savoring the inches between us, until I simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, I was actually on my way to the garden to scold you for playing hooky to sword fight, but I’d nearly hit my knees when I laid eyes on you. Anne, you must give me fair warning before you wear these.” My fingers wrapped around the waistline of her pants, tugging them sharply into me. The action caused her eyes to close and her breath to hitch. We’d soon got to kissing feverishly, tongues meeting tongues in the exact harshness that I’d wanted her to show me. Her hands had managed to wrap themselves around my shoulders, undoing the string that kept my dress on, and she looked fully around us to ensure that we were far enough away from normality, before untying the knot and slipping it off my shoulders. The petticoats were thinner, something she could manage, so they’d staid on.

Tree bark scratched against my back as I was pinned once again. Anne pulled back just far enough to hike the bottom of my dress up mid-thigh, before lifting me into her arms with her hands at the base of my bum. I was harshly slammed into the tree once more, as soon as I managed to wrap my legs around her waist.

 _“Oh.”_ I groaned, legs squeezing at her hips. With one arm and her upper body, she’d managed to keep me held against the tree long enough for her other hand to slink its way beneath the cotton to meet my center.

We were both aware that this would happen fast, for neither of us had much time to spare and the risk of getting caught was much too high. Still, however, I made sure to savor each moment, especially the feeling of her middle finger finding my nerves, and then trailing down to find the pool that waited for her. My head was thrown against the bark as she entered me, eyes clenched shut, and I gripped tight onto her hair to hold her head against my neck. A second finger was quickly added, causing a jolt at the intrusion, and my hips were thrown into the motions of her curling inside of me.

Her waist began to thrust at the pace of her fingers. I put one hand at the center of her back along her shoulder blade, to feel the muscles rippling beneath the cotton that stuck to them there. It wasn’t long before I was being split open. I’d been unable to tell if a third finger had been added or her speed had only increased, and perhaps it was both, I couldn’t know or even think straight.

 _“Faster_.” I’d bit out, pressing my face into her cheek. My demise was quickly approaching, getting closer by each second that passed, all I could do was rut against her and grip her shoulders tighter.

When it did finally arrive, she’d stilled her fingers from continuously pushing into me, opting instead to curl them against that spot as I shook- moaning, trembling, rocking- against her frame. There was nothing left to do but kiss her as I calmed, and shiver as my tongue was lightly sucked into her mouth. As she pulled out, I had to drop my head and hiss at the tugging of my core against her fingers, trying with all their might to keep her sheathed inside of my warmth.

She’d dropped me to the forest floor, and only allowed her arm to release my waist once she was sure that I could stand properly. Her shirt was set free from her pants, becoming a rag for her to wipe her three longest fingers on, before getting tucked back into their confines. I’d caught the tiniest outline of her abdomen muscles rippling with her breath as she’d lifted her shirt, and the view had caused my mouth to go dry, my tongue to tingle and press against teeth.

Our eyes had met, and the cockiest smirk I think I’d ever seen plastered itself upon her face, causing my eyes to narrow at her. My dress, with her help, was set back upon my shoulders and tied once more, and we’d made sure before beginning our walk that we were both in proper condition. Anne wrapped her arm around my waist as we set on the path once more, going home.

“So… all is forgiven now, I assume?”

I smiled, leaning lightly against her shoulder. “Absolutely not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Remember to comment, subscribe, and leave kudos if you loved it!


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